


learning to love myself (through the windows of your heart)

by starklystar



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Steve Rogers, Insecure Tony Stark, Kidnapped Tony Stark, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, WHY are they pining they are already dating, most of this is softness but they get banged up quite a bit before they bang each other, there is mutual dumbassery and a lot of kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starklystar/pseuds/starklystar
Summary: “I did tell you,” Tony starts to shoot back, “I’m a genius, billionaire – ”“Sleep-deprived madman,” Steve finishes firmly.-----------They don’t get along. Until they do. And every time Tony does something stupid (e.g. gets kidnapped, tries self-sacrifice, thinks he’s not worthy), Steve kisses him to shut him up and short circuit his thoughts.Or, a story of loosely interconnected one shots featuring all the above.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 142





	learning to love myself (through the windows of your heart)

**Author's Note:**

> when i get stuck on my other wips, i turn to this one. technically this story is complete cause they are all connected one shots, but i’ll keep adding new chapters beyond the five because writing them in Love™ is very therapeutic. i'm going to update this probably once every two weeks, because i'm working on another long story about stevetony as exes, but i do at least want to finish writing the five chapter one shot arc here.
> 
> there’s going to be some hurt and a lot of comfort, some angst and a lot of fluff. mind the tags, though. most are for the coming chapters cause they’re going to be a bit rocky for these two before it gets smooth again. this chapter is pure fluff
> 
> hope you enjoy the first installment :)

“I’m not an easy man to love,” Tony mumbles into Steve’s shoulder in the darkness of the hospital room.

Steve presses a kiss on the crown of his head, careful not to jostle any of the wires and tubes.

“Neither am I,” he whispers back.

* * *

They don’t get along. Not at first.

They fought over the toaster. They fought over dish washing. They fought over language and what to watch on team nights and how to train during sparring sessions. Steve despised the extravagance Tony lived with and the judging glares from him irritated Tony.

But a long talk with Colonel Rhodes had turned Steve’s glares into curious stares, and then into more longing ones.

And Tony had gone from irritated to panicked and finally, to entirely fond.

* * *

Bouncing his knees agitatedly, Tony tunes out the shareholder who won’t stop talking.

They’ve been at this negotiation for three hours now, and the clock at the corner tells him he has exactly twenty seven minutes and fifteen seconds before he’s late for his dinner date.

Sneaking a glance at Pepper, Tony taps his pen twice against the table in a well-worn signal that he wants to get this meeting over with right this goddamned second. Next to him, her eye twitches. She lightly kicks his shin with her heels – which, _ow!_ – and scribbles a vaguely threatening remark on her notepad.

Tony sighs.

They do need to exude an image of caring about their company’s direction and social impact. Usually, Tony would be more than happy to actually care about it – he’s here, after all, isn’t he? – but he hadn’t counted on the meeting dragging out this long.

Twenty five minutes and nine seconds left, now.

He supposes if he skips the wardrobe change and the face touch up, he can stay for ten more minutes. Steve is only fourteen floors above this conference room in the Tower, which helps matters a bit.

Still, it would be far more helpful if the shareholder would stop prattling to give Tony some time to spare so he can panic in peace about going on a second date with Steve Rogers.

When they agreed to doing this a month ago, Tony had promised he would try his best to be better than his laundry list of character defects. Steve had told him he didn’t need to change. But surely showing up late would be a signal that Tony didn’t care enough about their date?

He feels caught in a hazy limbo, unsure whether he should really trust in the truth of this shaky thing they were trying. He knows that he’ll always be friends with Steve – that wouldn’t ever go away, there were some things like saving the world together that bonded you irreversibly, and other things like being haunted by your past that inevitably brought you closer – but exploring this new side of who they were in a different sense was unsettling.

Tony was used to loving Steve quietly. Being allowed to actually touch, and to be held in return by Steve, was something he was unused to. He was familiar with bumping their shoulders, the fleeting touches as they patched each other up after battle.

Having Steve’s arm curled tight around his hips was something else entirely, though, and even now Tony felt himself buzzing at the thought of it.

Ten minutes and a buzz in his pocket.

Only three people have access to that phone, and discreetly so as not to garner too much of Pepper’s wrath, Tony takes it out.

It’s a notification from JARVIS.

He skims through the short reminder. As if Tony could forget. Their date was only a simple dinner and movie afterwards, but nothing about Steve was ‘only’.

Tony bounces his legs impatiently.

* * *

It’s thirty minutes later when the phone buzzes again.

He’s at the edge of his seat, his skin crawling with nerves and the need to _move_. He hadn’t wanted to stay this long

Steve’s cancelled their reservations.

 _No._ He feels dread clawing at his throat, a swooping feeling crashing through his stomach that sinks heavy and cold.

* * *

Steve had spent the first ten minutes pacing uselessly across the common floor, much to the stress of the other Avengers. Clint had thrown his popcorn at the back of Steve’s head. Natasha had kindly offered to scare away whoever Tony was meeting with. 

Another ten minutes were spent with him trying to straighten his tie in the privacy of his room, before giving up and taking it off entirely. After all, Natasha _had_ said that Tony would prefer his dress shirt without a tie, and even more if it was unbuttoned.

Raking his hand through his hair, he looks up to the ceiling – a habit Tony enjoyed teasing him for – and calls for JARVIS.

“My apologies, Captain. Sir’s meeting is running later than anyone expected.”

Steve nods. Okay, so Tony wasn’t purposefully avoiding him. That was good to know. He feared that Tony might have changed his mind sometime between their first date and today. It’s been a slow month between them, both of them too busy to spend much time with each other between robot armies and Tony’s company suffering the brunt of the fallout from the attacks.

A part of Steve worried that this slowness wasn’t enough for Tony.

A larger part of him was worried that Tony was overworking himself.

“Would it help if I came down there?”

“Sir would appreciate your presence.”

He’s known JARVIS long enough to sense the deflection. “The boardmembers wouldn’t, though.”

“Indeed, Captain.”

Steve ponders that for a second. He thinks of the slight hunch to Tony’s shoulders during breakfast this morning, how the fleeting kiss had been distracted and almost hesitant.

“Could you please cancel our reservations?” Steve eventually asks, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.

“Captain?”

There’s a cautiousness to the question, as if JARVIS was trying to understand Steve’s intentions. Something fond flares in Steve, grateful that Tony has someone to care about him, and in awe that Tony had created a miracle like JARVIS.

“I just think Tony would like a home-cooked dinner more after a tiring day,” he reassures the AI.

“Very well, Captain. I shall inform Sir.”

“Thank you,” Steve nods, making his way to his closet. He should change before he cooks. He doesn’t want to ruin this shirt – Tony likes the way it brings out Steve’s eyes – and he picks a simpler white shirt that can bear the sweat and mess of the kitchen better.

The kitchen of his floor is fully stocked. While they most often use the common kitchen, a date night demanded some privacy from the prying eyes downstairs.

Wartime had necessitated the ability to cook. However, cooking for survival and for leisure were entirely different world, and there were really only two things Steve could cook properly: his Ma’s soup and breakfast pancakes.

Slowly, he had learned to expand his palette, but pressed for time, Steve instinctively takes out the carrots from the fridge, his frayed nerves finding solace in the calm repetitiveness of cutting vegetables.

He’s serving the soup into a bowl when –

“Steve.”

Tony says his name breathlessly, leaning against the kitchen wall for support. It’s evident that Tony all but ran here, his hair a dishevelled mess, he hadn’t even bothered to take his business suit off. Steve appreciates the look, though.

He makes a note to send some flowers to Tony’s tailor because those are some _exquisite_ curves.

“Steve,” Tony greets him again, voice steadier now that he has his breath back. “I’m sorry. JARVIS said you cancelled our reservation, and I _know_ I’m late, but we can still – hang on,” he stops himself, frowning as he finally catches up to the pot on the stove and the bowl in Steve’s hand. “Why did you cook? I’m so sorry – ”

“Hey,” Steve cuts in quickly, putting the bowl down on the counter so he can walk over to Tony and take his hands. “It’s okay. I would prefer to be told next time a meeting runs late, but I understand that you can get swamped with work sometimes.” He squeezes Tony’s hands gently to emphasize his truth, grounding them both. “I’ve been told that you’re a billionaire. You gotta work to earn your keep.”

The teasing takes away some of the tension in Tony’s shoulders, but it isn’t enough to get rid of it entirely. Tony bites his lip, not quite ready to believe that all has been forgiven, and dreading what would come next.

Because this won’t be a one off thing.

Eventually Tony will be late one too many times, and Steve will be tired of being gracious. Wouldn’t it be better to just call this night and this relationship a failure before it gets even more painful?

“I don’t think this is working,” Tony swallows, painfully aware of the sudden silence, of the droop in Steve’s shoulders. It’s for the best, though.

“What isn’t working?”

Does Steve really need Tony to spell it out? “You’ll think that I don’t care enough about this. I do – I really _do_ , Steve, it was just this person wouldn’t stop _talking_ and – ”

“Hey. You have every right to call quits on this thing we’re trying,” Steve stops the rambling with a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder. “But Tony? I’m also going to inevitably miss one of our dates, or come late, or even go on undercover for months.” He brushes a thumb over the corner of Tony’s lip, silently coaxing him to stop hurting himself. “If you’re willing to bear with that part of my life, then I’m willing to learn to bear with this part of your life. _Especially_ when you being a billionaire is what keeps us all fed and watered.”

Tony deflates. He had been prepared for a fight, a loud argument about how his lateness was disrespectful or uncaring. He doesn’t know what to do with this, his nerves buzzing with unspent energy.

Steve’s other hand is still on his shoulder, warm and gentle, which feels like too much and too little all at once. Tony wants more of whatever this is, but he thinks he might shatter if he’s given more.

“I _am_ sorry, though,” he says again. If Steve really is willing to give Tony a second chance, he’ll take it. Besides, Tony has never been able to refuse Steve’s wide eyes looking at him like this. “I promise I’ll be better next time.”

Steve holds back his frown. It would send the wrong message.

‘ _You don’t have to be better. You’re already more good than I deserve,_ ’ he wants to tell Tony, but he knows Tony isn’t ready for that truth yet.

One of the things Steve had learned on the rocky slopes of their friendship was that he shouldn’t push too hard to get Tony to listen. The man would ignore him, dismiss his words as being impossible, or pick a fight to avoid thinking too deeply about them.

For it to stick properly, Steve had to _show_ Tony, and in time, he hoped that he would prove Tony’s doubts wrong.

“If you say you’re sorry again, you’re not getting any of my soup,” he threatens instead.

“Why?” Tony asks, genuinely confused, “Steve, I should have – ”

“You should have left a message,” Steve deftly takes over. Perhaps all those years arguing had built a useful skill. “I had JARVIS to ask, though, and I should have asked if you wanted to cancel instead of making you worry.”

But Tony’s face crumples further on itself, and he weakly tries to pull his hands away from Steve’s.

“ _You_ wanted to cancel.” His chin tips up, clearly bracing himself for his next words, and Steve marvels at Tony’s courage. “And if you want to cancel this forever, I can’t stop you, can I?”

The words come out flippantly, Tony’s jaw clenched tight, mask falling into place.

Steve also marvels at Tony’s ridiculousness. “Would you break up with me if I was the one who was late?”

“Of course not.”

“Perfect,” Steve dips his tone meaningfully, smiling as Tony scowls in defeat. Then, for good measure, Steve adds, “I _would_ break up with you if you tried to cook for me, though. I can’t get food poisoning, but I can still taste burned food.”

A snort. Less miserable and more amused. “You have pretty skewed priorities.”

Steve grins, squeezing Tony’s hands again. “And you’re dating a one-hundred-year old soldier. You have pretty skewed preferences.”

“I’m allowed to be eccentric. I _did_ tell you,” Tony starts to shoot back, “I’m a genius, billionaire – ”

“Sleep-deprived madman,” Steve finishes firmly, grin spreading wider as Tony finally laughs. “Now, are we going to stand here or have dinner together? I have plans to sleep tonight, preferably with a full stomach and you next to me.”

Tony’s eyes fill with a brightness that Steve doesn’t dare to look too closely into.

“Dinner,” he decides.

Nodding happily, Steve goes back to the stove, picking up the bowl he’d left on the counter. He starts moving the soup into the bowl with quick and measured scoops.

Just as he reaches up for another bowl on the shelf, he feels two arms wrap around his waist, the warmth of Tony’s chest against his back, then, the weight of his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he hears Tony mumble, the words rumbling against his shoulder blade, settling deep into his bones, warm and treasured.

Turning his head to the side, Steve plants a kiss into the curls of Tony’s hair.

* * *

The thing about dating Steve is that there are times when it feels absurdly normal. As the dread and fear fades away, it’s easy to slip back into the companionship of their old friendship.

Steve will park himself on the couch of Tony’s workshop, or Tony will bring his tablet up to one of Steve’s balconies, the evening sun painting the city in soft russets of gold.

They try their best to have a lunch date once a week, a midday oasis free from monsters or free-falling stock prices. It’s hardly any different from their weekly meetings as co-leaders of the Avengers – a thinly veiled excuse they used to have in an attempt to spend more time together.

And then Tony’s mind decides to realise all over again the miracle that he’s actually dating this wonderful, incredible man, that if he reaches out to trace the curve of Steve’s smile, Steve will reach back and press that smile against his skin, his lips, his heart.

They haven’t moved into the same room yet, but _soon_. Steve has been spending more nights in Tony’s room – the bed was bigger, softer than the one Tony had thought to give Steve all those years ago. Rhodey had always said that after years in the Air Force, Tony’s beds were too soft, and Tony was gratified that Steve had grown so accustomed to living with him that the beds no longer felt like marshmallows.

“Hey,” Steve nudges him, shifting the balcony chair closer next to Tony’s.

“Hey, Handsome.”

“What’s got you so happy?”

 _You_ , Tony wants to answer. And yet it felt too raw, too honest. Tony can scarcely believe they’ve lasted nearly three months now, and he doesn’t want to break whatever delicate balance he’s somehow achieved.

So Tony answers, “your ass.”

But Steve must understand because he shifts his chair even closer. “Your ass isn’t too bad either.”

“You _do_ keep saving it.”

“I have pretty skewed priorities,” Steve parrots back to him, and Tony laughs.

He scrambles to hold onto this, the sunset shining in the blue of Steve’s eyes, the lazy curve of his lips, the pencil hanging loosely from his hand.

Glancing up at the wispy clouds above the Tower, the ghost of the portal flashes briefly behind his eyes. It feels too much like the calm before the storm, these stolen months of relative peace.

Tony knows the aliens are coming back, knows HYDRA still lurks in the shadows, and his own arc reactor sits heavy in his chest, every moment ticking him one more second away from the shrapnel looming over him.

But when Steve leans in to peck a chaste kiss high on the curve of Tony’s cheeks, he finds those fears fading away, soothed by the constance of Steve’s presence.

“Would those priorities of yours involve dinner and bed?”

Steve’s lips tip up in a smirk, mischief making him seem younger. “They involve a shower, dinner, and _then_ bed.”

“You do have the best plans, Captain.”

“Well,” Steve draws his words out, “I have the best of men with me.”

The words tug a smile out of Tony, blooming brighter than his worries.

He thinks of the legions of armors he’s built, and the suits he’s made to protect _his_ world – Rhodey, Pepper, and now Steve. He usually hopes they’ll never have to use them, but today, he finds himself hoping only to have this – whatever this brightness was – a moment longer.

Tony stands, holding out a hand to Steve.

“What are you waiting for then?”

Steve smiles up at him for another second before he takes his hand.

“Nothing,” he says, tugging Tony in for a long, slow kiss, “nothing at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://starklysteve.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
